Not Ticking Fast Enough
by EccentrikPirate
Summary: He can't outrun the past. The past is the present and present the present and present the distant future that will also be the past as soon as he reaches the present. Tea Time goes on Forever...
1. Awe and Wonder

**Present**

"Is this a casino?" Hatter asked Alice.

He stared in awe and wonder at the glamorous array of flashing lights and towering buildings. Dead center, amidst the crowd of busy Oysters, Hatter had a perfect view of the new world surrounding him from all angles. He compared it to being very much stuck at the bottom of a shiny bowl. The lights of this new place were so bright the Hatter may have almost mistaken this bustling nightlife for daylight. Alongside all the flashing, blinking lights the buildings were adorned with many screens projecting different still _and _moving portraits. One depicted a happy group of Oysters dancing and laughing in their fuzzy plaid sweaters. Right above him a black portrait, this one non-moving, held only a red rose and single large white mask in its frame. "Remember your first time?" it read. It gave Hatter chills. Down the block another screen gleamed with many tiny, bouncing, exotically colored—what Alice told him were candies—forming many strange, rainbow shapes. To his left a painting of a pair of white and black and green witches smiled down on him. A single word, "Wicked", glittered.

Hatter was beginning to wonder who all these people in the Oyster pictures were, especially this "Coca-Cola" bloke who got his name on a big, glittering and—what the Hatter would refer to as a geometrically challenged— red sign all to himself.

A horn blared. Hatter jumped, his thoughts scattering for the hills. Many voices yelled at him in unison. Heavy shoulders shoved pushed the Wonderlander with unnecessary force. "Wotchit!" Hatter shouted. Then a sudden, terrible, infectious insect feeling sunk into the pit of his stomach. Alice. Where was Alice? He couldn't see her anywhere in the throng. Hatter spun in circles, shouting her name frantically until—

"Hatter!"

A very strong and equally delicate hand pulled him from the crowd. Alice dragged her Hatter onto the sidewalk, where one could say it was _relatively _safe. Her breathing was heavy as she scolded him: "You can't stand in the middle of the street, Hatter, you'll get run over!"

There was worry laced in her stern tone. Hatter gave his Alice his most wolfish of grins (that scary thing in his gut had subsided). He loved it when she worried about him. She tried very hard not to give and return the smile too. She was firmly set on being mad, Alice was. This only made Hatter's grin grow wider. He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. It had turned such a funny shade of pink from the cold. Alice pretended not to enjoy it. She was firmly set, remember? Of course she would be. Hatter had been acting like the most destructively curious of cats in her world for the past, what had Alice called it? a week.

"Is this a casino?" he said again, this time whispering into her ear. His hot breath chased away all the funny pink chills, and returned her ear to its normal creamy color.

Alice sighed. The first trace of a smile Hatter had witness in hours graced her lips.

"No," she told him, taking his hand and resuming her determined march down the sidewalk, "it's called Times Square."

Hatter's hand slipped from Alice's tight grip. He froze. Other pedestrians angrily slammed into the Wonderlander's back.

"_**T-time's**_?" he squeaked.

Alice turned, "Hatter?"

Hatter adjusted his flamingo pink scarf, swallowed the lump in his throat, and pulled the brim of his hat over the tips of his ears before speaking again. "Let's, _ahem, _let's go someplace else, shall we?"


	2. Tea Time

**Past**

Taking charge of a Tea Shoppe seemed like the best thing to do for one who didn't have the time for anything else.

The man not yet called Hatter, and no longer answering to David, sort of _fell _into the business.

By "fell" one means "tripped right over the threshold".

He thought it would be a fitting fate to allow himself to succumb to the addictive wonders of Tea. The man not yet called Hatter had only tried it once, many years ago, swore off it the very same day. Was no good for the mind, that junk. Drove people mad, in his opinion. Oh but what did principles matter at a time like this? He _had _just lost everything in exchange for a ruddy top hat and Jabberwock bones. And a debt. He earned a debt in the process of it all too. Bloody Dodo, that bastard should have left Not-Yet-Hatter where he laid. He wasn't worth the Resistance's pity or secrets. He never asked to be taken to the Great Library; he never wanted to be part of the Resistance at all. Not-Yet-Hatter, formerly David, looked out for himself and not a soul extra.

Unfortunately for Not-Yet-Hatter—however _very _fortunate for soon to be Hatter—the Tea Shoppe he quite literally stumbled into was all but abandoned. Auctions for the intoxicating nectar had ceased. Only the very few employees of the house remained, murmuring to themselves in confusion and despair. Not-Yet-Hatter hadn't even noticed the sign forbidding the public entry to this particular Shoppe. Apparently forbidding was not something this place did well.

"He's dead!" a man wailed.

The man formerly known as David winced. That voice was far too high pitched to have come from that being.

"No!" a blond woman denied, "Can't be! Who will run the Tea House? It can't be."

"The Queen 'ad 'im beheaded!" said a third employee as he dragged one long, bony finger against his own throat, "said somefin' 'bout getting' out the business and she 'ad 'im killed!"

The woman burst into tears.

"Now, now Mary Ann," the squeaky man patted her shoulders. Mary Ann dabbed her wet eyes on her apron, "We're not in trouble. We're safe from the Queen."

"But now we're unemployed! Who will run the Tea Shoppe?!"

"She's right," said the other man, "this place'll never be the same without the proper management."

"And he didn't appoint _anyone _take his place? Surely, if he was leaving the business, he would have made some sort of preparations!"

"None."

Now although he wasn't fond of eavesdropping the man not yet called Hatter _had _always been an opportunist, and recognized a good opportunity when he overheard one.

"M-me," Not-Yet-Hatter mumbled.

The trio leapt from their rickety seats, all stunned by this odd intruder.

"Wot you say?"

Not-Yet-Hatter cleared his throat, twisted the brim of his hat to the point of nearly tearing and lied, "he left me in charge."

The man not yet called Hatter was very aware of the lucrative business pushing Tea was. It was a respectable business, strangely. Tea came from the casino, so it would also give him contact with Suits on regular basis. What better way to pay off his debt to the Resistance? Work at a Tea House, pick up information, feed back to the Library. Of course it would be risky for him to interact with Suits, but wasn't David already as good as dead in the Queen's mind? So, really, a dead man couldn't run a Tea Shoppe. This would be somebody else running it. Somebody the Suits didn't know. He could reinvent himself and be somebody, well, he hadn't quite decided who exactly that somebody would be yet but he'd certainly have a catcher name than David. Besides, taking charge of a Tea Shoppe seemed like the best thing to do for one who didn't have the time for anything else.

"Who are _you?" _Mary Ann asked, her tears already drying.

Not-Yet-Hatter was good at impromptu speaking. "Me? I'm… _me. _And," he placed the hat atop his noggin for the first time, "I am the new man in charge of this establishment, as appointed by your former Master before his untimely execution."

They eyed him skeptically. Maybe this trick wouldn't work after all.

"So, 'e's passed the 'at to you then?"

Not-Yet-Hatter blinked. "Um, Yes."

Hours later Not-Yet-Hatter found himself greatly enjoying his new office. It was quite spacious, got a nice patch a grass, some pretty flowers. The furniture would have to go. He liked something more _modern _in its place. The bar was well stocked with Tea—not that _he _would ever drink any—but it was a nice look for a man who found himself the unexpected (and very illegal) proprietor of a Tea Shoppe. Not-Yet-Hatter chuckled. His spontaneous half formed plan was going surprisingly smooth.

The first man Not-Yet-Hatter heard speak before suddenly came bursting into the office. He was occupied by a quivering, dirty peasant. The man not yet called Hatter and formerly known as David swallowed, sensing that this was about to be his first official order of business and he hadn't a _clue _how to handle it.

"This man wants Tea!" his employee spat angrily.

Not-Yet-Hatter raised a brow, "Sooo…give it to him."

A head shook, "No, no, no. He has nothing of value to trade for!"

"Please!" begged the peasant, clasping his hands together, "I'll give anything for one more drop of Satisfaction!"

There were calluses on this peasant's palms, Not-Yet-Hatter noticed.

"What do you do?"

"…what?"

Not-Yet-Hatter sighed, "What is your _occupation_?"

"I'm a farmer, Sir."

The new Tea Shoppe owner nodded and stroked his chin as if he were deep in thought about this decision. It was, naturally, all a show. Not-Yet-Hatter _had _always been showman. He had already made up his mind the moment this farmer was dragged through the door. What he was really thinking about was all those refuges in the Great Library, refuges like he had been, chewing on nothing but scraps of paper.

"S'it a good farm?" he asked.

"Uuhh," the farmer nodded.

"Good crops?"

That balding head bobbed again. This time Not-Yet-Hatter returned it with another approving nod. "'Ow bout this," he took a seat upon the aging oak desk, "'Ow bout you give some of them fine crops o' yours to me, and I'll give you all the Satisfaction ya' like. Deal?"

"T-truly, Sir?"

Not-Yet-Hatter grinned, stretching his right arm out for the peasant to shake. It felt funny to lift the appendage that was so recently rendered useless. No matter. Not-Yet-Hatter had found a way to repay his debt to Dodo, successfully took control of his own business _and _earned himself a new name. Hatter. He was to be called Hatter. Not because of the hat, but because of his philanthropic habits, supposedly.

After they had left Hatter was chuckling again, his first chuckle as the Hatter.

He stopped chuckling after withdrawing the hand-me-down pocket watch from his pocket. 6 O'clock, it read and not a second past.

"Mary Ann," Hatter called for the maid, "Could you get me a kettle?"

She blinked. "Sir?"

He swung the little gold watch past her eyes, "It's tea time."


	3. Hammer Time

**Present**

Alice and Hatter were unpacking her—nay _their _new home. Well Alice was the one truly unpacking what little belongings the couple owned between themselves. Hatter had meanwhile built an inefficient and rather uncomfortable arm chair out of card board boxes. Occasionally, he would empty one of its contents.

"What's this?" Hatter asked Alice. Again.

The mechanical contraption was boxed shaped. It was black, with a silver face, covered in little buttons and knobs. The left half of its front was a soft black mesh and long silver stick protruded from its top much like an antenna. The box thing was heavy, but not so heavy that Hatter couldn't carry it.

Alice giggled, "It's called a radio."

She wiped some dust from her hands, took the contraption from Hatter and placed it upon an already cluttered table. A switch was switched by her delicate finger on the box's backside. A little green light glowed. She switched another switch and the most horrible, ugly, blaring roar of static was produced by the radio.

Hatter leapt backwards. He wasn't expecting the machine to make such angry noises. Alice laughed so sweetly at him and his red tinged cheeks. She placed her fingers on one of the dials and it turned. The static faded to nothing but a hum.

"It's supposed to play music," she explained, "but it's a bit temperamental."

"Yeah, I noticed!"

Patting Hatter against his chest Alice smiled, "I have to get back to unpacking the dishes now. Think you can handle this?"

Hatter nodded. His eyes never left the device as Alice padded off into the corner of their loft designated as the Kitchen. This box was something to be approached carefully, oh, not that Hatter couldn't handle the thing. Of course he could handle it. He was Hatter! Still, no use throwing caution to the wind.

"Challenge accepted," he muttered, rubbing his crafty hands together.

One of the dials was labeled "tuning", the other (that Alice had played with) was called "volume". Although he really wasn't sure what the difference between "tuning" and "volume" was Hatter lunged for them. He twisted the "volume" and that ugly static returned. It merited a grimace. Next he fiddled with the "tuning" and gradually, like magic, the static evaporated. Soon the first notes of what Hatter distinctly recognized as music poked through the fuzz. After the static cleared entirely Hatter could finally hear the distorted words of the song:

_"Tiimmmeee, is on my side."_

Hatter jolted the dial forward. He needed something more _pleasant. _

_"I'll stop the world and melt you with, you've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time."_

Again he twisted the knob, biting his lip.

_"…you better start swimming or you'll sink like a stone, the __**times they are a changin**__'…"_

Hatter cursed and turned the dial as far as it would go.

_ "Stop! It's Hammer Time!"_

The Wonderlander curled his Sledgehammer into a fist and smacked the radio. He didn't hit it _too _hard, but the instrument did skitter off the table…in pieces.

"Alice!" his voice as hoarse, "I think somethin's wrong with your music box!"


	4. Stuck

**Paster **

Pressing his ear to his once faithful pocket watch the man not yet called Hatter frowned. The gold watch was cold and silent against his skin. Cold he was used to. Metal things got cold. _Silent, _he was not used to. Silent was something a man of his skill never wanted a watch to be. He shook the trinket with too much force, letting a particularly nasty growl escape his lips as it flew free from his fingers.

Not-Yet-Hatter was expecting to hear it thud against Library carpet. He was hoping to hear it thud. He was hoping to hear it crack and shatter because honestly, all this silence was driving him mad.

What he heard instead was the soft sound a watch makes when it lands so miraculously in the palm of an open hand.

"Funny," Dodo said, "there's this kettle whistling constantly since you returned, though according to my clock it's not Tea Time for several hours."

"Maybe the clock's not ticking fast enough," Not-Yet-Hatter retorted, intentionally not meeting Dodo's eye. His anger at the watch was amplified by the other man's presence. Dodo was not one the man not yet called Hatter thought of kindly. The grayish-purple smudge incasing Dodo's left eye was proof enough of that.

Dodo chuckled (_not _because he was fond of sarcasm, quite the opposite actually). Not-Yet-Hatter hated the elder man's laugh.

"Is that your latest excuse?"

Not-Yet-Hatter did not dignify Dodo's remark with a snarkish reply of his own. Instead he just snorted. So the elder man continued the conversation on his own.

"Leaving soon?"

It wasn't a question so much as an order. Not that leaving wasn't something Not-Yet-Hatter had already planned on doing in the very near future. With his injuries almost completely healed he had no more reasons to stay. The Library had been kind to him—even after he and all the Resistors knew Not-Yet-Hatter didn't deserve such kindness—but the same could not be said for Dodo. The pair despised one another since the day they met and the fact that it was the man not yet called Hatter who survived the Queen's imprisonment and not the _better _man, did nothing to improve their relations. Although the guilt—what minimal guilt a Wonderlander could feel— was chasing Not-Yet-Hatter out of the Library faster than Dodo's coldness.

He nodded. To the younger man's surprise Dodo offered him a chipped tea cup filled with a steaming brew and the return of Not-Yet-Hatter's watch on the saucer.

"It seemed a fitting parting gift," Dodo said as Not-Yet-Hatter brought the cup to his lips, "for one who doesn't have time for anything else."

Not-Yet-Hatter swallowed too much tea. It seared his throat as he choked. The fragile handle of the cup cracked under the pressure of his right hand (_how _was he ever supposed to get used to using that foreign set of bones and flesh?). The chipped cup tumbled down Not-Yet-Hatter's front, staining and burning all at the same time. Dodo chuckled that pompous and dangerous chuckle of his.

"We got word today that the Queen of Hearts has ruled to abolish all counters of time," he said with a grin (Not-Yet-Hatter was too exhausted to hide his hopeless frown), "Whatever you did it certainly made an impression with her, and Time, apparently," Not-Yet-Hatter opened his mouth to speak but was not given the chance, "Stop trying to deny it. It's obvious you're Stuck, and you'd only fooling yourself you think a dozen stopped clocks is just a coincidence. Though I don't believe for a minute you didn't deserve the curse you've been given you reckless, foolish boy."

"I'm sorry," Not-Yet-Hatter whimpered, because honestly he was so tired of this lecture. He was so tired of all the lectures and his screw-ups and all the lectures that reminded him of his screw-ups. He was just so very, very tired.

Dodo's wicked grin vanished, "'_Sorry' _doesn't cut it, boy. The Resistance, no, all of Wonderland, lost one of its finest and most loyal freedom fighters because of your foolishness, because in your selfish mind you actually thought you'd be doing the Resistance a favor—"

"I know!" Not-Yet-Hatter screamed, throwing the tarnished saucer against a book lined wall where it shattered, "You keep tellin' me that! The way everybody looks at me keeps tellin' me that! You're all thinkin' the same thing. 'It shoulda been 'im that got the bucket', it shoulda been me! Well, it S'not. I'm 'ere, I survived, and I'm _sorry _that it was me! I really am. But what do you want me to do? Take his place?"

Bloody damn survivor's guilt!

It was Dodo's turn to snort, "Please, you're not that heroic, you could never—"

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Favors."

Not-Yet-Hatter blinked, truly stunned by Dodo's answer. He ruffled his shaggy hair, pretending to think. "F-favors?"

"You don't think you owe us?"

Ah, and the smug smile, that arrogant posture returned to the Dodo. Of course the man not yet called Hatter thought he owed them. He was indebted to them. The Resistance had saved him, on multiple occasions, all without Not-Yet-Hatter's permission and losing one of their best in the process. How could he _not _owe them? The only problem was he really hadn't a clue _what _he owed them.

"We scratched your back."

"And I'll scratch yours," Not-Yet-Hatter finished.

Dodo was positively beaming, "Precisely."

He wasn't even going to bother to ask how. He'd never be able to pay off this debt. It was impossible. Not-Yet-Hatter could think of _nothing _he'd be capable of giving the Resistance that could replace a life. Dodo had given the poor, homeless boy an impossible task and was laughing about it. Some "freedom fighter" he was. Just as bad as the Hearts, this Resistance could be.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he could escape both the Resistance and the Hearts in a puff of smoke or something. But seriously, the man not yet called Hatter was never that lucky. Standing there, being mocked by Dodo, calculating all of his futile options, surrounded by books detailing the worlds beyond Wonderland, Not-Yet-Hatter suddenly found himself thinking of the world behind the Looking Glass as more than a harvesting ground for Oysters. He wondered what it was like to live in the Oyster world. That world couldn't be nearly as mad as this one. So he could go there. He could escape. He could be rid of all his Wonderland burdens once and for all, reinvent himself, the man not yet called Hatter _had _always been the inventive type.

Blast, it would probably be easier to just drown himself in some strong Tea.

He thought of Dodo's parting gift. Yes, Tea would be a fitting fate. Those other ideas—escape, and venturing behind the Looking Glass—they could only be fantasies. Dodo was right. He had to admit it. Not-Yet-Hatter was Stuck. He was Stuck in Wonderland, and he'd be Stuck wherever he went. It'd be awful hard for a man Stuck at twenty-nine years, five seasons, eighteen hours and not a second past to start a new life somewhere when he couldn't exactly move beyond the point of twenty-nine years, five seasons, eighteen hours and not a second past. People noticed when other people didn't change. See, the man not yet called Hatter had heard all the right lore about people getting Stuck, about Time and its penchant for grudges, but up until this moment Not-Yet-Hatter had always assumed that lore was all those stories were. Those stories, well, they never ended happily. People didn't just become Un-Stuck. It wasn't like waking up from dream.

"I'll be wanting another one of those," Dodo said, referring to the cup and saucer, "and please, when you go, take that _stupid _hat with you."


	5. That's Odd

**Present **

Alice marveled at the items Hatter kept in his pockets.

This was not the first time she did so, and seeing as how her newly live-in boyfriend had a terrible habit of never emptying said pockets this would not be the last.

Alice couldn't help the feelings of guilt and exasperation that overtook her the first time his pants made it into the wash and inadvertently ended up making laundry tea. But Alice was an understanding Oyster, forgiving was easy, so was reminding Hatter to empty his pockets before attempting laundry a second time (because no, that machine is not duel purposed for making tea and _no _it probably wasn't a good idea to start using it for such). The hard part was on Hatter's end: remembering. Although he assured (with a disappointed grunt) his Alice he would be more mindful, he truly wasn't. He forgot all about it, naturally. Despite there being something rather alluring about all of her clothes smelling like Hatter's tea collection, Alice knew it simply wasn't worth the risk of damaging her very ancient and hand-me-down washing machine. Again. Oh and it wasn't just breaking the washing machine that bothered her, Hatter kept things other than tea in his pockets she would hate to see ruined by the Sock Eater (Hatter's pet name for the washer. Quite catchy).

Yet Hatter, like most, was a creature of habit. After the third tea in the washer incident Alice was forced to kindly ask Hatter to refrain from experimenting with that particular household chore.

So one Saturday morning, as Hatter indulged in his new favorite tea and frying pan cakes breakfast ritual, Alice found herself marveling at the items in his pockets once more. She removed each one separately, with great care, and lined them all up atop the dryer so she could admire them more closely.

He carried a lot of tea. It was special tea, kept in little color-coded velvet pouches tied together with fraying ribbon. "Happenstance," he had said when she asked why he carried so much. Hatter always had to have certain teas ready for different occasions of happenstance. Alice had them all memorized. Just in case he ever saw a flying pig then he'd try a strong brew of cinnamon and apple spice. If the moon was full then he'd be drinking a sweet plum flavor. A green tea and cherry blossom mix was saved for days he sneezed more than thrice in row (a Wonderland remedy for sneezes, apparently). Her favorite was raspberry, hoarded for nights Alice wore a certain blue dress.

Along with the tea Hatter kept an inflatable teacup, saucer and kettle set. How objects could be flat as paper one moment and then balloon into a perfectly function tea set the next never ceased to amaze Alice. Wonderland was full of some funny things. She found her inner child longing for a set of those to play with back in the stuffed animal Tea Party stages. Alice smiled. Hatter always forgot to carry matches or a lighter for his impromptu tea times; awful hard to boil water in that pink kettle without fire. Oh and yes, pink. The kettle and cup and saucer were all a dusty pink and it took Hatter four days to admit her kept them because pink was his favorite color (there weren't, surprisingly, a lot of pink things in Wonderland, unless one counted Flamingos). Although lately he had been claiming to be more fond of blue.

Alice frowned slightly, her fingers digging into the vacant pocket where she thought Hatter's wallet should be. That was another thing Hatter never remembered to carry. She had made a point of getting Hatter a wallet complete with paper money and an Oyster approved Identification Card (with some help from a little butterfly she knew) and all of the things he kept in his pockets _that _was never one of them.

She dipped curious fingers into the final pocket needing to be checked. There Alice found Hatter's least favorite item that he was never, ever without. It was a pocket watch. The gold was tarnished, tattling the object's age. It was missing a chain, the fragile links having been snapped off long ago. She knew he despised the thing, but didn't really know why. She figured, judging by its condition, it was some sort of heirloom, a family thing, or at least that it held some fleck of sentimental value. Each time she questioned him about, however, Hatter always managed to find some new, magnificent way to distract her.

Alice smoothed a thumb over a crack in its glass face. Beneath her fingers the watch was silent. Its hands stopped at six o'clock and not a second past. Something about that time always felt oddly familiar, but every time she thought of that she thought of him, saying "does this look like a kid's story to you?"

As quick as a hare, two very strong arms had Alice's waist ensnared. Hatter nuzzled her neck, "Breakfast ready," he mumbled, mouth full of pancake.

"I think the washing machine broke this," Alice confessed. She held the gold watch up to Hatter's nose, biting her lip as she felt his grip on her waist go slack.

Hatter's jaw clenched in the same it had when she showed him her father's watch back in Wonderland. He cleared his throat, taking such sweet time to finish his bite of breakfast. "No matter," he said, breath maple syrup scented, arms tightening their hold Alice, even stronger than before. "I can fix it."

An eyebrow of Alice's quirked, "you can fix a watch?"

Ignoring the desire for an explanation in her tone Hatter released Alice from his hold. He plucked the watch from unsuspecting fingers and magically vanished the trinket up his sleeve. His other hand ruffled her soft hair, at the same moment his lips nibbled on her ear. What a delightful distraction.

"I'll have it done by time tea," Hatter whispered.

She giggled, "And when would that be?"

Hatter was already retreating to their breakfast table, his eyes downcast as he answered: "it's always tea time."

Alice bit her lip, wishing Hatter's voice was really as light as he pretended. He was hiding something. Whatever that something was it was eating him, eating her too. Finger nails scratched at the thin watch adorning her wrist. She diverted her gaze to it, mostly because she didn't like looking at the way Hatter's shoulders sagged ever so slightly. Upon viewing to object, Alice forced herself to blink twice. She tapped the piece of jewelry.

A small noise escaped her lips, "Huh…"

_That's odd. _

Alice's wristwatch had stopped ticking at six o'clock and not a second past.


End file.
